The Magic of Christmas
by Authoress-in-training
Summary: "For you. In the spirit of the holidays." She stared down at the coin in her hand. "Everyone deserves a little magic in their life."


Lights, ornaments, mistletoe; _The Nutcracker_ ballet at Lincoln Center, window displays up and down Fifth Avenue, the tree at Rockefeller Center… As the thousands of tourists who regularly flooded the city around December would agree, no one did Christmas quite like New York City. Even many of the jaded locals would, for those few short weeks at the end of the year, abandon any pretenses and delight in the beauty and wonder of the city they called home. The holiday spirit was all but contagious, infecting everyone it touched in any way.

But there were always exceptions.

"Mom, please tell me that was the last store." Eighteen-year-old Bloom Peterson pulled out her cell phone to check the time, sighed heavily, and added, "Come on! We've been shopping for _hours_, and I have a ridiculous amount of homework to finish."

Her arms loaded down with brightly colored shopping bags of all sizes, Vanessa Peterson clucked her tongue at her daughter. "Sweetie, lighten up. It's the holiday season! Isn't the city so beautiful, with all the lights and decorations? I could spend hours just walking around, looking at it all."

"Well, I couldn't," Bloom replied, pulling her jacket tighter around her body. "How do you still get so awestruck by these things you must've seen a zillion times?"

"You used to feel the same way, honey," Vanessa reminded her with a not so subtle nudge of the elbow. "When you were a little girl, you couldn't get enough of the window displays and tree trimming and ice-skating in Central Park…"

"Mom! I'm not a little girl anymore!" she snapped. "And I have other priorities than acting like some stupid tourist when we _live_ here."

Vanessa sighed. "Alright, sweetie. If you're going to get this worked up, we'll go home." Then her eyes spotted something at the end of the block. "Oh look, there's a Papyrus. Delilah just loves their candles; I should get her one." Without waiting for a reply, she took off down the street, leaving her daughter with no choice but to huff her annoyance and follow.

When she reached the storefront, though, Bloom's hand hovered over the handle, then pulled back. Even if it would be warm inside, she had absolutely no interest in being made to smell five thousand different candles – that all smelled the same to her anyway – to help her mom buy yet another present for one of her employees. Instead, she leaned her back against the side of the store, watching the crowds of people pass by with disinterest.

Vanessa was right – Bloom used to love the holidays. But as she grew older, and Christmas became less about family and more about materialism, there was something about the season that just made her feel inadequate. She and her family lived in a slightly crumbling apartment on the Upper West Side, over the flower shop that her mom owned. Her dad was a firefighter, and though between them they were always able to make ends meet, her presents had always been more on the sentimental or practical side, rather than extravagant. It had never bothered her until she was fourteen, when she won a scholarship to a fancy private school on the Upper East Side where the average family's net worth was greater than the GDP of some African countries. These kids had everything, and it couldn't help but make Bloom feel like she had nothing.

Well, whatever. This time next year she'd hopefully be far, far away from the city and all its crazy. Maybe basking in the sunshine on a beach in California. Yeah, that sounded nice.

A small crowd of people had gathered at the street corner, and out of boredom more than idle curiosity, Bloom got up and walked over to see what they were all staring at. "That was incredible!" a silver-haired woman said loudly to her friend. "I just don't know how he does it."

"It's magic," her friend answered excitedly.

Bloom rolled her eyes, realizing what was going on now. Every year, it was the same thing – when the tourists flocked to the city that never sleeps, so did every hack and homeless person hoping to make a buck by providing the crowds with 'entertainment'. She'd already endured countless musical performances (most off-key and/or on badly strung guitars), a few comedians, and even one old guy with a dog that did tricks, just on this shopping trip alone. (The dog was pretty cute, so she'd given him a dollar.)

This one was a magician, and unlike some of the so-called performers she'd seen today, there were more than a handful of bills in the hat at his feet. Maybe it had to do with his looks; he was younger than most of the street performers she'd seen – maybe early twenties – and didn't look run-down or homeless either. He was even wearing what looked like an actual costume: a purple vest over a long-sleeve white shirt, a ruffly white old-fashioned tie, gloves, tall boots, and a long high-collared burgundy coat; like something out of the Victorian era, but strangely it all worked for him. In fact, he was almost handsome, despite his ridiculous outfit, with long reddish-blond hair and interestingly colored eyes, a light hazel shade that almost looked like gold when the winter sun hit them in the right way. Though she normally scorned the street performers, Bloom found herself edging closer.

"How many of you folks out there still have some holiday shopping to do?" He had a good voice for this kind of thing – strong and attention-commanding without having to shout. As the crowd – mostly older women and mothers with children – nodded, he continued, "Excellent. Then you're really going to appreciate my next trick. You there!" He pointed to a little blond girl with pigtails and a puffy pink coat, clutching her mother's hand. "What's your name, and what do you want for Christmas?"

"My name's Kelly," she said, "and I want a Barbie doll."

The magician smiled. "I'm no Santa Claus, but I think that can be arranged." Picking up the hat full of money and placing it neatly on his head – with a few startled gasps when nothing fell out – he made a dramatic flourish of his arms that caused his coat to swirl out, then took the hat back off and held it out in front of him. "You see, this is no ordinary hat," he continued, reaching his arm into it and wiggling around like he was searching for something at the bottom of a trunk. "This hat has the power to grant people's holiday wishes. Like so." With another flourish of his arm, he pulled out a tall pink box and handed it to the little girl. "Voila! A doll for Kelly, and let's see if there's not something for her mother as well…" After another second of digging, he pulled out a small gold box that looked like chocolates. Kelly's mother – who was rather plump, bundled up in a thick down coat – gasped in surprise and immediately opened the box, stuffing two into her mouth at the same time.

He kept at this trick for a while, handing out some jewelry to the women in the crowd and candy, spinning tops, and playing cards to the children. Finally he set the hat at his feet and declared, "I think you all have worn out my magic hat for today. I trust you're all satisfied?" The question was completely rhetorical; the audience was already cheering before he finished the question. "Then please, if you can spare a dollar or two; I seem to have lost all the money I accumulated before…"

A snort of laughter escaped Bloom's lips before she could catch it, and through the small crush of people rushing to drop money in his hat, the magician looked up and caught her eyes. "Do I amuse, pretty girl?" he drawled, his voice like rich honey and somehow almost sensual when directed solely at her.

She waited until his adoring fan club had dissipated before stepping forward to meet his curious gaze. "I just think it's ridiculous that even in this economy, so many people are willing to believe in something that doesn't exist and give you their money, for a cheap thrill and some cheaper trinkets. And that you don't see anything wrong about exploiting them to make a buck."

He chuckled lowly. "Don't hold back, tell me what you _really_ think." Turning away from her slightly, he gathered up an assortment of props – including a deck of cards, a pile of sheer silk scarves, and a wine glass – and started to pack them into a very worn-looking brown trunk. "I am in the business of entertainment. I show people something extraordinary, to distract them from the reality of their lives for one moment and make them believe that anything is possible. It's a rare and highly undervalued skill, but a desperately needed one in these times. And why shouldn't I profit from it? I have the same needs as anyone else."

"There's nothing special about you. Anyone with the time and motivation could learn how to do tricks like that. The rest of just live in the real world, where in order to make money, you have to go to school and get a job."

He raised one eyebrow. "Not just anyone can do magic, my dear."

Bloom snorted. "Please. What you do isn't 'magic.' It's illusion, deception, and sleight of hand. My cousin was into magic for a while; I bet I can tell you how you did every trick in your repertoire."

"I highly doubt it." He shook out a giant purple velvet cloth, forcing Bloom to step back for a minute as he started to fold it into neat squares. "You'll never understand the importance of what I do, because you don't even believe that it's real. To you, magic is just fairy tales and children's stories. But your life isn't all sunshine and rainbows, is it sweetheart? Let me see…" His eyes seemed to bore into her as he continued, "You have a perfectly comfortable life in a city where most people would kill to live, but you're dissatisfied; you can't wait until next year when you can go to college on the other side of the country; you love your parents, but their holiday cheer is suffocating you, because you haven't liked the holidays since you were a little girl." He looked up to see Bloom gaping in awe. "Am I right?" he asked, the twinkle in his eyes confirming that he knew it was a rhetorical question.

"How… how did you know all that?" she stuttered out. A gust of cold wind blew by, and she shivered, shoving her hands into her pockets. For his part, he seemed completely undisturbed as the wind whipped through his long coat, which hardly looked strong enough to handle an East Coast winter.

He scoffed. "You're an open book, dear – at least, to anyone who knows how to read you. And I happen to be an expert at reading people. You can't give people what they want without knowing what that is first." He turned back to his props, and even though this was by far the strangest conversation she'd ever had in her life, Bloom couldn't help but feel a little affronted at his casual dismissal. "Typical non-believer. You want a magical solution to your problems, but you won't even believe that magic exists. It's quite the paradox you've found yourself in; no wonder you're so unhappy."

"Do you psychoanalyze everyone you pass on the street? It's a miracle you've managed to make any money if this is how you talk to people."

"No, you're just a special case." He winked, then reached out one hand towards her face. Her immediate instinct was to shy away, but something kept her frozen in place as he reached up to her ear, fingers lightly brushing against her hair, and then… pulled back with a coin between his fingers?

Bloom rolled her eyes as she realized that he had just done another stupid trick. "If you think I'm going to be impressed by the oldest trick in the book, you're not nearly as good of a people-reader as you think you are."

Laughing, he said, "That wasn't the purpose of that. I just couldn't resist the special delivery. Here." He dropped the coin into her hands. "For you. In the spirit of the holidays."

"You're the one doing performances on a street corner to make a buck, not me," she laughed. She stared down at the coin, a shiny new gold color like no other piece of currency she'd ever seen, with an imprint of a phoenix surrounded by flames in the middle. Carefully, her fingers traced over the slightly raised surface. "This thing is cool, though."

"Then keep it. Everyone deserves a little magic in their life." There was something about the look in his eyes that unnerved her slightly, and she moved to give it back to him. But at that moment, a giant group of tourists made to cross the street, the number of people so large it briefly separated them. When the crowd had finally passed, there was no one standing on the street corner, and no sign of him at all.

Bloom blinked a couple times, staring at where the magician had just been. _Well that was easily the weirdest thing that's happened to me in a _long_ time,_ she thought to herself, staring down at the coin in her hands. As much as she didn't want anything of his, there was something preventing her from just tossing it in the nearest trash can.

"Bloom, sweetie, there you are! I got a little worried when you didn't follow me into the shop, but then I figured you just wanted some fresh air. I can't blame you; the scents in there _are_ pretty strong." Vanessa appeared as if out of nowhere, one more shopping bag added to the multitudes on her arms. Her cheery smile vanished when she saw her daughter's expression. "What's wrong, sweetie? You look like you've seen a ghost."

_Maybe I have…_ Shaking her head a couple times as if to shake off the memory, Bloom shoved her hand into her bag, letting the coin drop down to the bottom. "It's nothing, Mom," she insisted. "Let's just go home."

* * *

"Spying on the golden boy again?" Her trademark dark pigtails flying out behind her, Mariana Rivington, known to her friends as Musa ("What my parents were thinking, giving me such a mouthful of a name, I have _no_ clue," she always said when people asked), danced up to Bloom's side and gave her a nudge in the arm, her navy eyes twinkling with mischief. "This is getting kind of sad, B. You do realize that she's got him wrapped around her bony little finger like one of her precious pink diamonds? Why would you even want someone with such a weak will?"

Blinking rapidly, Bloom tore her gaze away from the table across the room and turned back to her friend. "Shut up," she said goodnaturedly, returning her attention to the half-wrapped present in front of her. "I was not." Grabbing another toy off the pile, she pushed it down in front of the other girl, adding, "And if you're going to stay here and bother me, at least do some work. We need all the help we can get."

"I don't know… What if I broke a nail?" Musa held up one hand and acted scandalized, only holding out for a second before the two girls dissolved into silly giggles. A few heads turned to see what the commotion was about, but then quickly returned to their own work and/or conversations when they realized who the culprits were.

Like Bloom, Musa was a senior at the Nightingale School; unlike the redhead, her parents actually paid the thirty thousand dollar tuition. The daughter of a famous record producer and a former opera singer, Musa lived in a ritzy apartment building with a doorman and a prestigious Upper East Side address, had been christened in Baby Dior, and got Tiffany pearls from her parents for Christmas, like the overwhelming majority of their classmates. With her multiple-pierced ears, ratty black Converse, and a recently acquired tattoo of a treble clef on the back of her neck, though, she was about as far from the typical Upper East Side girl as you could get, much to her parents' chagrin. Musa had no taste for shopping at Barneys and flaunting her wealth, which was what had attracted Bloom to her all the way back in freshmen year. Three years later, they were still each other's only real friend at Nightingale.

"Nice one, M," Bloom said, cutting off a piece of red and green plaid wrapping paper.

"Yeah, well, that's what most of the girls around here are thinking, I'm sure. It's ridiculous that they can't put their vanity aside for a few hours and do something to help the less fortunate." Musa tied a ribbon on her box, slid it aside, and reached for another one.

Bloom sighed, privately agreeing with her friend's assessment but not brave enough to say it out loud. Nightingale had a community service requirement for its students, and sponsored several events each semester to help them fulfill it. Unfortunately, some well-meaning but misguided soul on the school board had decided to make the events coed, bringing the Nightingale girls together with the boys of the nearby Allen School. As a result, almost everyone was too busy flirting with the boys to bother with the real reason they were supposed to be here, wrapping Christmas presents for underprivileged children in Harlem. Bloom had finished her service requirement for this semester weeks ago, but she'd come today because she figured that nothing would get done if she didn't; the last event of the year was notorious for being when all the slackers and spoiled princesses who could care less about giving back to the community showed up to get their requirements out of the way at the last minute.

And, alright, she did have a bit of an ulterior motive as well…

When Musa skipped off to the bathroom, she stole a glance across the room in the direction where she'd been staring before her friend arrived. Sky Valentine had been the object of Bloom's incredibly secret desire since the first time she ever laid eyes on him, all the way back in freshman year. She'd been ashamed of it at first – the captain of the Allen School lacrosse team and the son of a prominent attorney, he was the epitome of an Upper East Side rich boy – but when they'd talked for the first time at one of these service events sophomore year, she was pleasantly surprised to learn that there was a brain underneath all that perfect blond hair. He wasn't like the rest of his classmates; there was something different about him, even if he tried to hide it sometimes.

She'd seen him at several other joint-school events throughout the years – he, too, did more than the minimum requirement of community service – and they always chatted casually, but she wouldn't really call the two of them 'friends'. She always felt awkward around him – probably because she still had a massive crush on him, despite the fact that he'd been dating snotty Diaspro Channing since freshman year. The two of them were the kind of perfect golden couple that made adults coo and ask when the wedding would be. Diaspro was gorgeous, but she was also manipulative, spiteful, jealous, and vindictive; for the life of her, Bloom couldn't understand what Sky saw in her. _He deserves so much better…_

"Aha! You were staring!" Startled, she whirled around to see Musa, back from the bathroom with a giant I-was-right grin plastered across her face. The devious, all-knowing expression only lasted a second, before it was replaced by – even worse – a look of pity. "Bloom, you've _got_ to get over this already. Diaspro is never going to let her claws out of him. This little obsession has to end. I'll never understand why it started in the first place; you are _so_ much better than him."

Bloom rolled her eyes. "It's easy for you to be so high and mighty; you've got Riven." Riven James was a twenty-two-year-old bartender at Musa's favorite downtown music club, and they'd been dating for the last few months. He smoked, his hair was spiky and an awful shade of red, his arm muscles were the size of small children, and every other sentence out of his mouth was sarcasm; but he was a decent enough guy under the tattoos and toughness, and he was sweet to Musa, so because her friend seemed happy, Bloom approved. (Of course, her parents would've hated him if they knew, which only made her like him more.)

She sighed. "Musa, I'm eighteen years old and I've barely even been kissed. And you know I don't count Eric because of the whole braces thing." The two girls shared a tiny giggle at the memory. "I just… I'm sick of being the only girl our age who's never had a boyfriend."

Musa clucked her tongue. "You must know by now that that has nothing to do with you and everything to do with the guys we spend most of our time around not liking anyone who's not a clone of Diaspro. But what about Andy? He totally has a thing for you. If it's a boyfriend you want, you could have one in two seconds."

The redhead's cheeks flushed to match her hair. Andy Piccoli was the lead singer of a band that sometimes played at the club where Riven worked; they'd met on one of the rare occasions where Musa managed to drag Bloom out with her. "Andy's a nice guy, but there's just no spark," she said, turning her attention back to her present.

"And you think there'd be sparks with Prince Charming over there? How many times have you even talked to the guy, B?"

"Keep your voice down!" Bloom reprimanded in a harsh whisper. Softening her voice, she added, "And I don't know how many times I have to tell you that Sky's not like what you think. There's something deeper to him." Musa rolled her eyes, like she did every time Bloom tried to convince her that Sky wasn't the empty-headed trust fund brat she thought he was.

"Maybe there isn't, maybe there is. But either way, do you really think you have a chance with the guy? Even leaving the blond bitch out of things, you two are completely different people. You know what I think?"

"I think you're going to tell me even if I don't want to hear," muttered Bloom under her breath, as she cut a piece of ribbon.

Musa ignored her, leaning against the table. "I think you're more infatuated with the _idea_ of Sky Valentine than you are into the actual guy. And I get that, but come on, we're graduating in a few months. Next year you'll probably be across the country, surrounded by hot surfer guys with names like Logan and Kai who have abs like an Abercrombie bag, and you're not going to even _remember_ that you liked Mr. Laxjock. You're way too old for Prince Charming fantasies and…"

Bloom looked up from the newly wrapped present when her friend's voice trailed off suddenly. "M, you alright?" she asked, having never known the dark-haired girl to stop talking in the middle of a big speech.

"He's coming over here," she hissed out between her teeth.

Bloom's stomach did a somersault. "Who? Sky?"

"No, Prince William. Yes, Sky!" Making something that sounded a lot like a squeak, Musa darted off in the direction of the bathroom, leaving Bloom alone at the table.

Half convinced her friend was just playing a prank on her, Bloom fastidiously measured out some blue snowflake-print paper to cover a box of some kind of Lego monster toy, determined not to look up. She was just starting to tape the paper to the box when she felt a hand on her arm.

"Hey, Bloom." Her heart jumped up into her throat at the sound of that voice. She forced herself to stay calm as she turned around to meet his blue eyes.

"Hi, Sky," she said in what she hoped was a casual tone. "What's up? Did you guys run out of tape at the other table or something?"

"Not that anyone would notice if we did." He made a sound of derision in the back of his throat. "Almost everyone here is just fulfilling their school requirement, and most of them aren't even bothering to take it seriously."

She laughed. "Yeah, most of these girls look like they've never wrapped a present in their life."

"Well, you're certainly good at it." He gestured to the stack of neatly wrapped gifts piling up on the table in front of her. "Nightingale's lucky to have a girl like you, who actually cares about someone other than herself."

His compliment brought color to her cheeks, and she ducked her head to try and hide it; she knew she was far from a pretty side when she blushed. "You care too," she said, struggling to find some way to answer him back. "I've seen you at more of these than you need for the school requirement. You might try to hide it, but there's more to you than lacrosse and Daddy's money."

"Pretty _and_ smart. You're really a breath of fresh air around here, Bloom Peterson." Okay, Bloom might be ridiculously out of practice, but this conversation was starting to sound a lot like flirting. But that was insane… right? _He has a girlfriend, he has a girlfriend, he has a girlfriend_, she told herself in her mind.

As much as she wanted to keep talking to him, she forced herself to look away and go back to wrapping the Legos. "Hey, so I was wondering," she heard him say, "are you doing anything this weekend?"

The spool of ribbon fell out of her hands and hit the floor.

He laughed softly. "Should I take that as a yes, or…?"

Bloom bent down to retrieve the ribbon, to buy herself some time to think. "Um, I don't have any plans, but… don't you kind of have a girlfriend?" She couldn't believe what she was saying – the words tasted bitter on her tongue – but at the same time, she knew it was the right thing to do; she refused to be anyone's 'girl on the side'.

Sky blinked, looking confused for a moment. "Diaspro? Oh, that's over now."

She had to literally bite down on the inside of her cheek to keep back the silly grin that threatened to spread across her face. "Really?" she said, when she could trust herself to speak again.

"It's been a long time coming, actually," he said, fidgeting slightly. "When we got together, it was sort of because our parents wanted us to, and then I guess I just never really had a reason to break up with her. But I finally realized that with her hanging around, I'd never be able to go for someone real." He looked away, like he was nervous.

A tingly feeling spread through Bloom's entire body. _She_ was that someone real. "Well then, Sky, I would love to go out with you."

* * *

"I still can't believe you've lived in the city for your entire life and you'd never seen a Broadway show before tonight."

Bloom exhaled, her breath forming clouds in front of her face in the bitterly cold night air. "I guess I just never realized how cool they were," she said weakly, not wanting to admit that it was mostly because Broadway tickets were super expensive. As they crossed the street, in an attempt to turn the conversation away from that particular topic she asked, "Have you seen a lot of them, then?"

His eyes lit up. "Yeah," he said, "a bunch on my own, and school takes us to see a couple a year too. I've always had a soft spot for the musicals, even if I can't sing for crap."

She laughed softly. "Oh right, I forgot that you're in drama. I saw the inter-school production of _Pride and Prejudice _last year; you were great. What's this year's play?"

"_Romeo and Juliet_," he said softly, staring down at her with that slightly starstruck look in his eyes that she'd been seeing all night, like he couldn't believe his luck that she was actually on a date with him. When really, it should have been the other way around.

Everything about this night had been perfect so far. Sky wouldn't tell her what he had planned, so she hadn't had a clue how to dress, but when he picked her up with Broadway tickets in hand, she was beyond thankful she'd borrowed the dark purple dress from Musa's closet. They'd had the best seats in the house for _Phantom of the Opera_ ("the most romantic show on Broadway," he insisted, which gave Bloom tingles in all the right places) – close to the stage, but not so close that the sound of the orchestra overpowered all else. After the show, they'd hailed a cab in search of some dessert – Sky kept saying he had the perfect place in mind, but wouldn't tell her where yet – but ended up stuck in typical New York gridlock traffic. As the fare on the meter climbed higher and higher, the sensible part of Bloom finally made the decision that they should get out and walk. (Of course, five minutes of that made her thankful for the skin-toned tights and practical-yet-adorable flats she'd paired with the dress.)

"How much further is this place? Because I'm not sure I can feel my ears," she joked as they turned a corner.

"We're almost there," he promised. "In three… two… one…"

"Whoa," she gasped on cue, as their destination came into view: the tall, stately, castle-like towers of weathered brick that made up the exterior of the New York Palace Hotel. Fairy lights twinkled from the branches of the trees lining the courtyard, only adding to the mystique and glamour.

Next to her, Sky was grinning. "Thought you'd like it."

"_Gossip Girl_ is my secret guilty-pleasure TV show," she heard herself say, even as she mentally wanted to slap herself for admitting that. "I've always wanted to come see it in person – see if it's as amazing in real life – but I could never find a good excuse to come down here."

"Well, it's pretty incredible," Sky said as they strolled through the giant arched doorway. The uniformed bellman tipped his hat to them as they passed, and Bloom had to bite her lip to keep from giggling. "I've been here for dinner with my parents several times, and I always wanted to come here with someone special."

It took a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in, and when they did, she couldn't have stopped the blush that spread across her face for anything. _Always wanted to…_ as in, he never had. Specifically, that he'd never brought Diaspro here. _But he brought me._

Not wanting him to see her tomato face, she quickly turned away. At least there was plenty for her to look at; the inside of the hotel was just as beautiful as she'd imagined it would be. Gold walls and carved ceilings, marble floors, crystal chandeliers… Slim white pillar candles burned in old-fashioned candelabras on the walls, and in the center of the lobby stood an enormous Christmas tree decked head to toe in gold: ribbons, ornaments, baubles, tinsel, and an enormous glittering gold star at the top. Even at ten o'clock at night, there were people everywhere; the men tall and confident in that distinct way that came from wearing a watch that cost more than a car, the women thin and poised, dripping with jewels and sophisticated in a way that Bloom suspected she could never emulate, no matter how hard she might try.

For a moment, she was reminded why she tried to avoid places like this. Bad enough she had to deal with the junior versions every day at school; the world of the Upper East Side had a tendency to intimidate the crap out of her. But then Sky squeezed her hand, and she remembered why she was here – who she was with. Tonight, she belonged here just as much as anyone else.

They settled into a cozy burgundy leather booth in the hotel's open-plan restaurant. From this vantage point, they had a wonderful view of the entire lobby and all the comings and goings. A waiter came by with menus and filled up their water glasses, and Bloom quickly glanced down at the menu, feeling too overwhelmed to consider talking now. Everything sounded incredible, decadent, and insanely expensive. In what had been a recurring phenomenon all night, she was struck with the sudden urge to pinch herself, to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"So, Bloom Peterson, are you glad you came tonight?" Startled, she looked up to see Sky staring at her intently. There was something almost anxious about the look in his eyes, like her answer meant everything to him.

Setting down her menu, she beamed at him. "Are you kidding me? Tonight was… magical."

For a split second, his eyes seemed to look past her, like he was very far away. "I'm glad you thought so." Then he blinked, and it was like nothing ever happened. "Hey, so a friend of mine is having a party on Christmas Eve. I know it's last minute, but it would really mean a lot to me if you could–"

And before she could think twice about what exactly she was agreeing to, Bloom said, "I'd love to come."

* * *

"So how's the rich kids' party? Have they convinced you to dye your hair blond and throw away your Converse yet?"

"Musa!" Bloom laughed, shifting around on the toilet seat in a vain attempt to find a comfortable position. "You're horrible."

"And so, so right, aren't I?" The sound of the other girl's distinct, deep-throated chuckle echoed through the phone, and a wave of longing almost painful in its intensity swept through her. She could easily picture Musa, sprawled out across her enormous bed in pajamas with her laptop on her stomach, watching old episodes of _The Vampire Diaries_ on Netflix (the dark-haired girl's secret guilty pleasure), and for a moment she wanted nothing more than to be there next to her, eating licorice and fighting over whether Elena should end up with Stefan or Damon. Something normal, instead of locking herself in the bathroom of the apartment of someone she was fairly certain she'd never said two words to before tonight. "Now really, tell me what's going on. Because you wouldn't be calling me now if the party was awesome."

She took a deep breath. "I just… When I'm with Sky and it's just the two of us, everything's wonderful. Perfect, even. But all of his friends are here, and I'm sure he didn't realize that I don't know these people too well, but he went to go talk to someone like half an hour ago and now I don't know where he is and I just don't know what to do…"

"Okay, stop." There was a distinct edge to Musa's voice that told Bloom she was in for one of her friend's infamous pep talks, but instead of groaning like she usually did, she welcomed this one. A little tough love sounded like exactly what she needed right now to keep the tears from falling and ruining the eye makeup she'd spent so much time on earlier. "Enough feeling sorry for yourself. Now I didn't much approve of this whole thing, but since you're here, you are absolutely not allowed to hide in the bathroom all night. You look damn hot, you are a better person than most of the people in there, and you are not going to let them make you feel inferior. You are going to hang up this phone, get back out there, and go find your man, because if you don't, he's going to get a severe tongue lashing from yours truly for leaving you to fend for yourself."

Bloom laughed softly. "Alright, alright, I'm going."

"Promise me? No more wallflower. There's gotta be someone there you can talk to. Or if it really, really sucks, make Sky take you home. He shouldn't have put you in this position in the first place."

"Thank you, Musa," she said pointedly, not liking the direction the conversation was going. "I'll call you when I get home and fill you in."

"You'd better," the other girl teased, and Bloom could just see her friend smiling. One last pang of longing to be in the dark-haired girl's big bedroom, cuddled under the covers and eating junk food, swept through her, and then she forced it down. Musa was right: it was high time she started standing up for herself. After giving her reflection in the mirror a quick once-over (it wouldn't do to go out looking anything less than immaculate), she took a deep breath and unlocked the door.

The pounding bass of Rihanna's latest single, which had been muffled by the thick walls of the bathroom, hit her like a slap in the face, as did the mingled scents of booze, cigarette smoke, perfume, and sweat. Brandon Townsend's parties were legendary among the private school circuit, but Bloom had never been invited to one before. After spending about an hour here, she would be hard-pressed to find any significant differences between this place and Musa's favorite clubs on the Lower East Side. The brands of alcohol and the cost of everyone's clothing might have been higher, but otherwise, it was the same exact thing – young people getting trashed and being stupid. Bloom had no taste for the whole scene, and she hadn't thought that Sky would either.

But wasn't this what she'd thought she wanted? Hadn't she dreamed for years of walking into a party on Sky Valentine's arm, every eye in the room turning to look at them, everyone knowing they were a couple? _Well, that wasn't exactly how it had turned out in reality,_ she thought, remembering how Sky had abandoned her almost immediately to go catch up with some friends who now went to boarding school. He'd promised to find her later, but so far 'later' had never come.

The two of them had been dating for a couple weeks now, and on the surface, it was everything she'd always imagined it would be. He waited for her after school to walk her home, helped her study for her chemistry final, took her on sweet and adorable dates all over the city… Every dream or wish of what her perfect boyfriend would be like, he was fulfilling. But something always left her just the tiniest bit unsatisfied. She couldn't put her finger on it, but there was something about their relationship that just didn't feel right. And tonight certainly wasn't doing anything to help get rid of that feeling.

Sighing, Bloom started to make her way towards the kitchen to get something to drink. She'd only taken about three steps before someone grabbed her wrist.

"Hey, you." Bloom's heart jumped up into her throat as she turned around to see Diaspro Channing standing behind her, in a dress that was bright red like a warning sign. She was holding a red plastic cup, but there was nothing drunk about the look in her eyes, which burned with hatred. "I know you. You're the girl Sky dumped me for."

Bloom gulped. "I-I'm sorry, but th-that's really not fair," she stuttered nervously. "What happened between you and Sky is between you and Sky. I had nothing to do with that."

"Oh sure you didn't, you little tramp," Diaspro sneered. Her eyes fell on Bloom's wrist. "Did _Sky_ give you that?"

Almost instinctively, her other hand flew to her wrist, as if shielding the bracelet from Diaspro's view. "Yes," she said in a slightly stronger voice, trying to find her confidence._ Musa, think Musa. What would she say to this bitch if she were here?_ "It was an early Christmas present." He'd surprised her with the jewelry on the last day of finals, called it a good luck charm; it really was pretty – a delicate silver vine with tiny flowers blooming around crystal centers – and just her style as well, not too overdone or flashy. She'd worn it tonight, hoping to recapture some of that magic feeling she'd felt when he first gave it to her.

The blond scoffed. "He always was too cheap to get the real stuff. I guess it doesn't matter, since you won't be around for very long anyways."

Bloom's heart slammed against her ribcage. "What are you talking about?"

"Please. Look at you. You don't belong here, and you _don't_ belong with someone like Sky. His parents would _never_ approve. Where did your dress even come from – Target?"

Bloom's cheeks burned. She'd taken her time picking out an outfit tonight, and even though Musa had once again offered up her closet – her mom bought her all kinds of expensive clothing she never wore, and was all too happy to loan out – she'd decided to go with a dress of her own tonight. She'd worn the dark green dress many times; the slightly old-fashioned shape – cap sleeves, smocked waist, slightly flared skirt – flattered her figure, and with black tights and ankle boots, she knew she looked good. But then she looked at Diaspro's dress, at the diamond and ruby chandelier earrings dripping from her ears and the matching bracelet anchoring her impossibly tiny wrist, and felt hopelessly inadequate in comparison.

"Sky's always been too into charity for his own good," Diaspro sneered. "He probably took pity on you or something. But it won't last forever. Eventually he'll get sick of the stench of _garbage_." Tears stung at the corners of Bloom's eyes, and she blinked furiously, trying to hold them back. The blond just smiled serenely and took a sip of her drink.

"Hey, girlie." Stella Solaris, Brandon's girlfriend and Diaspro's best friend, teetered up on dangerously high heels and slung an arm around Diaspro's shoulders. Her dress was a short sunshine-yellow number that had threads of gold subtly woven through the fabric to make it shimmer; pretty, but incongrously summer-y. But then, that was Stella for you – the stereotypical California beach bunny (even though she lived in New York), with her golden tan and utter lack of brains beneath her long blond hair. "Come on, they're starting karaoke in the great room. Remember how you and I rocked the hell out of "Teenage Dream" at White Rose the other night?" She didn't even look at Bloom, like she wasn't there, irrelevant and therefore invisible.

"Oh my God, totally!" Like the flip of a switch, Diaspro's voice went from cold and cutting to exuberant squealing. The two girls took off in the opposite direction, neither bothering to look back at the redhead.

Forgetting all about her promise to be strong, Bloom made a mad dash for the bathroom, slamming it shut and then bracing her back against the door. Her chest heaved with the mere exertion of breathing, breath coming in ragged gasps as her legs gave way under her; she slid down onto the floor and then, finally, let the tears fall.

* * *

"I still can't believe she did that to you." Sky's blue eyes were a stormy gray, his knuckles turning white from the tightness of his grip on his coffee cup. "I know I've said it a million times, but I'm so, so sorry you had to deal with that, Bloom. I promise, I'll talk to her. That won't happen again."

Bloom took a long sip of her drink, feeling it warm her up from the inside out. "I hope it doesn't," she said softly, staring off into the distance. It was the day after Christmas, and she'd agreed to meet Sky for coffee in Central Park – the most neutral ground she could think of.

She was still reeling from the way Diaspro had treated her at the party, and had almost begun to wonder if this relationship was worth it. Yes, Sky was amazing and whenever they were alone it was like a fairytale, but when the rest of the world got involved, it never seemed to end too well. And then there was that nagging little feeling that something wasn't right…

She inhaled deeply, the freezing winter air strangely invigorating. "I know this wasn't your fault, but I just… I didn't realize exactly what I was signing up for, with Diaspro as your ex."

He chuckled darkly. "Yeah, she's something else, alright. I really should've broken up with her a long time ago – or just never started dating her in the first place."

Something sparked inside Bloom's head. "Why exactly did you break up with her?" she asked.

Sky blinked. "I told you; I never thought I'd marry her or anything – though my parents would love it if I did – but it just seemed like too much work to break up with her. And then I realized that there was someone else I wanted to date." He gave her a sheepish grin that just a few weeks ago would have made her melt into a puddle. But now, she barely registered it, the wheels in her brain starting to turn.

"But why?" she asked, turning to face him. "We're graduating in a few months; why pick now of all times to suddenly start a new relationship, when we're not sure where any of us will be in the fall?"

"I… I didn't want to leave the city without getting the chance to know you."

"But you've had plenty of chances to get to know me. We've been in the same circles – sort of – for the last four years. Why now?"

"I…" There was something almost frantic about the look that flashed through his eyes. "What's with the third degree, Bloom?"

She sighed, draining the last of her coffee in one swallow. "Sorry," she muttered under her breath, staring off into the trees.

Sky's arm slid around her shoulders, and she turned to look up at him. "I'm a coward," he said softly, focusing his gaze on her. "I put up with Diaspro because it made my parents happy, and because it meant I didn't have to put any energy into the whole dating thing. And then the other day, it just hit me that I'd spent too long doing what everyone else wanted from me. I'm eighteen years old; it's time that I start taking control of my own life, going after what _I_ want."

"And what you want is me?"

"Yes."

If she hadn't been studying his face so closely, she wouldn't have noticed; it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of thing. But he got that distant look in his eyes, and there was a split second of hesitation before he replied. In that moment, Bloom knew what she had to do.

"Sky, I'm sorry to do this like this, but I think we should just be friends."

He shook his head, like waking up from a daydream. "What?"

"I think it's for the best," she said, gently sliding out from under his arm. "It's like I said, in a few months we'll be graduating, and who knows where we'll end up for college? I just don't think it's a smart idea to start a new relationship that probably won't survive past the summer."

"But… I don't understand!" Sky looked absolutely blindsided, and she bit her lip. "Is this because of Diaspro? Because I promise, I'll talk to her. And Stella, and anyone else who might have objections to us being together." He reached out and put his hand over hers. "I'm serious about this, Bloom. I'm serious about _you_. I'll do whatever you want to make this work."

She shook her head sadly. "That's not the problem here, Sky."

"Then what is?" She didn't think she'd ever seen him look so… wrecked.

"I… I'm not entirely sure. But I feel like this is the right thing to do." Carefully, Bloom took her hand out from under his. She looked him in the eye and said, "You're a great guy, Sky, and I really hope we can still be friends. You're going to make some girl really, really happy one day. I just don't think she's me."

And then, before she could lose her nerve, she got up and started to walk away.

* * *

A couple days later, her arms loaded with shopping bags, Bloom was walking up Amsterdam Ave when she saw a crowd of people gathered around the street corner up ahead. By the time she made it to the intersection, the people had moved on, leaving only a very familiar man in a long burgundy coat.

A small smile played across her lips, and before she could realize what she was doing, she cocked her head to the side and walked up to him. "Hey… I know you."

He blinked, frowning. "Who are you again? I'm sorry, but this is an enormous city, sweetheart. You can't expect me to remember everyone that gives me a dollar."

She rolled her eyes. "Think harder."

Something shifted behind his eyes, and the corners of his lips turned up in a small smirk. "Oh, I remember you now. The non-believer. How's my coin doing? You get a little magic in your life yet?"

Her eyes widened, and her grip on some of the bags loosened. _Oh my God… the coin…_

What was that he'd said? _Everyone deserves a little magic in their life._

The memory was coming back to her now. Frantically, she dug around in the bottom of her bag, trying to find it. She never cleaned out her purse, so she must've been carrying that stupid thing around ever since he'd given it to her. Her mouth formed an O shape as she pulled it out and held it up to the light: the shiny gold had tarnished to a dull bronze. _What the…_

"It's the magic," he offered, as if that made anything clearer. "The spell's been used, so the coin changes color." To her bewildered expression, he said in the voice one might use with a small child, "That means it worked."

Bloom stared down at the coin in her hand, mind racing. The sudden breakup, the weirdness, the distant looks, the inability to answer certain questions… It shouldn't be possible, but there was no other way it all fit together. _Does that mean… But that's impossible, right? How could it… but he… and it… Sky… How…? I don't understand…_

The distinct sound of the magician's laughter startled her from her thoughts, and she realized she had voiced that last one aloud. "It's always hard at first, for you non-believers; forced to realize that everything you knew about your world has changed. And so much fun to watch." He leaned back casually against the stoplight pole, a faint smile playing across his lips. "What you think you know about the world… it's just scratching the surface, darling. There's so much more out there to discover, if you know what you're seeing."

She glared at him. "Not helping here."

"Oh, I'm supposed to be helping?" He made a face of faux innocence. "Haven't I done enough already?"

Bloom took a deep breath, the sting of the cold air in her lungs exhilarating. "I'll say," she snapped, feeling the confusion and shock start to melt away, replaced by a burning anger racing through her veins. If what he was saying was true… all her emotional turmoil over the past few weeks was his fault. And frankly, taking out her frustration on a target seemed a lot more productive than a bunch of metaphysical wondering. "You had _no right_ to meddle in my life. I don't even know you!"

He rasied an eyebrow. "I don't understand why you're mad. You should be _thanking_ me." He chuckled again, the sound infuriating her. After everything he'd done, he had the audacity to _laugh_ at her? She wanted to smack that smug expression right off his face.

So she did.

"Ow!" he yelped, bringing a hand up to his cheek, where she was pleased to see she had left a nice red handprint. "What the hell was that for?"

"Did you ever wonder what would happen to my life as a result of your stupid _spell_?" she demanded. "I bet you didn't, did you? Just thought it would be _amusing_, like your stupid little shows. God, I should have thrown that thing in the trash can as soon as you gave it to me."

"I rather thought I was doing you a favor," he said calmly, rubbing his jaw, and she almost had to admire him for his determination. "The spell was supposed to grant your heart's secret desire. And I checked it a thousand times to make sure there were no loopholes; I never would've given it out otherwise."

"And why _did_ you give it to me, huh?" she continued, like he hadn't said a word. "Was it some kind of stupid joke to you? Might as well mess with this girl's life, because hey, she doesn't believe in magic, so she's easily expendable!" Only when she finally had to come up for air, chest heaving with exertion, did Bloom realize she'd started screaming. (She spared a brief moment of worry, but then remembered that the streets of New York had heard much, much worse. Sometimes it paid to live in a crazy city.)

He at least had the sense to look somewhat shamefaced. "Darling, calm down," he said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. She glared and pulled herself away, and he held up his hands in a defensive position. "Why don't you tell me what happened to you, and then we can figure out where it all went wrong?"

Bloom sighed. She almost couldn't believe what she was doing, but she'd already ended things with Sky, and it might be nice to talk to someone about it all – even if said someone was a crazy-but-maybe-not-so-batshit-insane-as-she'd-previously-thought street magician. "Well, there was this guy, who I've liked forever–"

"Oh, I know why you're so upset."

She blinked. "Really?"

He laughed. "If I had known _that _was your wish, I never would've given you the coin. True love is one of the most powerful forces in the universe. Magic makes quite a poor substitute."

She tipped her head back and closed her eyes, sighing at his confirmation of what she'd already more or less pieced together herself. "So he didn't really like me."

"Oh no, he had an attraction to you before. I told you, love is one of the few things stronger than magic; you can't fake that. The wish-granting magic simply caused him to act on it. But don't believe the fairy tales, dear. Wishing for true love with magic never ends well."

Bloom opened her eyes and looked up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you obviously broke things off with this boy, right?" She nodded. "Because you could tell there was something off, am I right?" When she nodded again, so did he. "Exactly. The coin's magic changed his character, pushed him through whatever was blocking him from approaching you naturally. That magic then would've stayed with him, to make him into your perfect guy – regardless of whether or not he really was. Let me guess, he took you out to do all the things you'd always dreamed of doing with a boyfriend?"

"Yes…" she said warily.

"Magic," he said simply. "So on the surface, everything would've been perfect, and if you were shallower, you might never have noticed anything. But because you have a good head on your shoulders–" she raised an eyebrow (_how would he know that?_), but didn't comment– "you saw that there was something wrong with him. And thus, here we are." He made another one of his elaborate hand gestures, and she rolled her eyes.

"His name was Sky," she said, and she wasn't quite sure why she was telling him more, but it didn't feel weird. In a way, this complete stranger – she didn't even know the guy's name, for crying out loud! – knew her better than some of the people in her life; he'd known her well enough to see that she was unhappy, at least, and he'd tried to do something about it (even if it had backfired a bit). "His ex – that was magic, too, that made them break up, right? – she's a bitch, and she said all these things to me the other night at this party. About how I was trash, and he'd just get bored of me soon and discard me. And the sad thing is, that's sort of how I used to see myself." She leaned back against the street sign, tilting her head and staring at him sideways. "I go to school on the Upper East Side, and that place… it's enough to make anyone feel inferior. And then when Sky and I were dating, I tried _so hard_ to make myself look like I belonged; in a way, I've spent my whole high school career doing that, even if I tried to pretend like I wasn't. And when I was with Sky, it was perfect, but then Diaspro – she's the bitch ex; weird name, huh? – said all those things, and I just felt so, so worthless. But now… I don't." Tilting her head to the other side, she looked up at him through her lashes. "Maybe this whole thing was good for something after all."

His eyes widened, and then he chuckled lowly. "Well… isn't _that_ interesting?"

"What?" she asked, suspicion creeping into her tone.

"Sounds to me like the coin did its work after all. You did get something out of all this, it seems; something you desperately needed."

"And what would that be?"

"Perspective."

Bloom sucked in a breath. Her first instinct was to deny it – he didn't get to claim victory after all this – but then she thought about it, really thought about it; thought about what she'd just said, and how she'd meant every word. Thought about the way she'd learned to stand up for herself, and how she'd made an effort to reach out to some of her old friends in her neighborhood, the ones she'd conveniently lost touch with after getting the scholarship to Nightingale. Thought about why she'd found herself out today – buying better Christmas presents for her parents, because throughout all this she'd managed to find her old holiday spirit, if just a little too late.

Something had changed in her, she thought. And whatever it was, she was grateful for it. It might have taken her this long to get here, but she kind of liked herself better now, after realizing what she'd turned into. "You… might be right," she allowed.

He smirked, like he knew exactly what she was thinking but wouldn't say aloud, and she found herself drawn to his eyes. At first, she'd thought they were just a light hazel that could come off as gold, but up close she saw that they really were. And they were kind of addictive to stare at. "Magic's funny like that, sometimes. It doesn't always give you what you want the way you thought you wanted it, but it'll give you what you really need." He hesitated. "I am sorry, though, for causing you any distress. It was not my intention."

She spared one last brief moment to be irritated with him, then let her anger dissipate into the wind. "Well, come on. When the words 'heart's desire' are in the title, it only takes a modicum of common sense to realize that love's probably going to be involved somewhere."

His lips quirked slightly, then he laughed. "I suppose you're right." Looking down at her with those mesmerizing eyes, he asked, "Can we start again?" Holding out his hand, as if for her to shake, he said, "Hi. I'm Baltor."

She mulled the name over in her head. _Baltor_. Definitely unusual, but then again, so was he. "Bloom," she said with a small laugh, taking his hand. He smiled.

"So, _Bloom_," he said, putting a truly ridiculous amount of emphasis on her name, "I know it's a little last minute, but… are you doing anything for New Year's Eve?"

She giggled. So similar, and yet so completely different at the same time. "No plans yet, _Baltor_," she said coyly. "But I would love to spend it with you."

* * *

**Author's Note: Merry Christmas, my darlings! Hope you enjoyed your present from me! :D The official Christmas special sucked (was I the only one yelling things at the TV when I watched it?), so I just had to write my own something special.**

**So, yeah. I'm quite proud of this, it being a shining example of a time I actually managed to finish something on a deadline (I only got the idea for this thing last weekend - plus I had finals this week too). A friend gave me the idea, or what the idea grew from - in her version, the girl ended up with the golden guy, and the magician was just a side character. Well, as she explained it I could see it perfectly fitting with my favorite Winx Club characters, but obviously that ending wasn't going to cut it, so I tweaked it a bit and now here we are! Hope you liked it. It was fun to write - especially Baltor, who's sort of channeling his inner Damon Salvatore here (yes, I've become hopelessly addicted to The Vampire Diaries, and couldn't resist throwing it in).**

**Finals went well - thank God - and now I'm taking advantage of break to be especially productive, so expect to see me around more in the next few weeks. I've got a cool new idea for a one-shot, focusing on Diaspro of all people, and it's gonna be good. Not to mention, the new Meet Again (and BLBC) chapter is going up on New Year's Eve. So yeah. Watch this space.**

**H****appy holidays, everyone!**

**Love,**

**- Authoress**


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